A Reunion Of Sorts
by Myfanwy Spencer Jones
Summary: There's a ginger in the TARDIS, but the Doctor doesn't know her yet. Introduction of Artemis, my OC.


**A Reunion – Of Sorts**

My name is Doctor Celeste Violetta Calista Amelia Song, and I am three hundred and seventy one years old. I've been married thirty seven times, and not half of them voluntarily. None were binding; none lasted. I should have been a new dawn; instead I am a doomed miracle. I've seen all of Creation, every star and speck of dust, more worlds than any other mind could comprehend. My history is dark, my future darker still. But enough of the universe; it's time to go home. I am Artemis, and I have a double heartbeat.

"Thank you, miniaturised cross people." The Doctor chuckled. A robot that replicated people's morphology, filled with tiny people hell bent on justice. Even _he_ hadn't seen that coming.

The Teselecta, still imitating the Doctor (and _that_ had to be one of the strangest things he had ever experienced, in all his time travelling the stars), nodded curtly. "Certainly… if there is ever anything else we can do for you, Doctor-"

"I'll know where to find you," he smiled, "Yes." The Doctor turned away, effectively ending the conversation. He listened to the Teselecta's footsteps as it walked away, watching the now empty funeral pyre float away across the lake. _They think I'm dead, now._ He sighed and turned towards the TARDIS. _Would it be better if I were?_ The door clicked open as he rested his head against its blue panels. He trudged inside, footsteps echoing in the empty space – at least, he _thought _it was empty.

"How long does a death scene really have to take, Doctor? Things to see, people to do."

"Well, I was talking to the Teselecta and – why am I telling you this? You're not my keeper. I don't even know you!"

"Oh, that hurts, Doctor, that really hurts. It might be a bit early in _your_ timestream, but even so, we've met before."The redhead pushed herself off the console and towards the Doctor. "Or are you losing your memory, old man? It was fine last week, for me, which is three centuries away for you. Time travel, you can't keep it straight in your head."

The Doctor blinked, recognition dawning. "You… you were on the space station… with the Anne-droid. And in the 17th century, with Shakespeare, and in The Library. Donna said your mother just died, so you're-" he gasped. "You're River's daughter!"

She smirked. "Which means?"

"Sorry?"

"You just married River. If I'm River's daughter, then it follows that..?"

"You're… No. No! Really? You're my daughter? I have a daughter?"

"Well… You _will_ have a daughter. Time travel."

The Doctor grabbed her shoulders, hugging her awkwardly. "You're ginger!"

"I'm aware of the fact."

He chuckled. "What's your name, then?"

"Doctor Celeste Violetta Calista Amelia Song. Artemis."

"Artemis?"

"It's a bit of a mouthful, and you have a secret name, I wanted one too."

"Fair point. Just you, then? No siblings hiding down the corridor?"

"Not _just_ me. But yes, I'm an only child."

"Right. And you're here because..?"

Artemis shrugged. "Because I felt like it." She paused, biting her lip. "You – River died, and I – I couldn't find you later, but I knew you'd be here, now, so I'm here, now."

"Well then, you're going to tell me everything about you, Artemis. I need to know my daughter."

"Of course."

"How many?"

"Eighteen. Eighteen times, that is."

It felt like someone was crushing the Doctor's hearts. "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry."

Artemis smiled sadly. "It happens."

"Not eighteen times. Not for most people."

She looked up from her hands, twisting in her lap. "I'm not _most people_, Doctor."

"Not even for most Time Lords. We don't tend to lose our-"

"Doctor. It's just me. The mixture of DNA makes things difficult. But there'll be brighter days, Doctor, just you wait."

"How do you know that?"

"The darkest hour comes before the dawn." She spoke matter-of-factly. It didn't surprise the Doctor; he didn't enjoy dwelling on the past, either.

"So, where shall we go first?"


End file.
